Insanity
by les cousins dangereux
Summary: Charming doesn't know why Regina is so desperate to save his wife and daughter. He only knows that each time they fail she slips a little further away. Two parts. (Spoilers through 2x02).
1. Part I

_Disclaimer: _Not mine, as always.

_Just a step away from happiness and sanity blurs;_

_Drives her crazier_

(Eveline by Nickel Creek)

* * *

Charming doesn't quite know what to think the first time Regina knocks on the door of Snow's apartment.

It's about a week after she returned Henry to him (something he's still trying to wrap his head around, honestly), and the knock on the door is almost tentative. Maybe it's the nature of the knock that causes him to get up from the table— where he and his grandson sit eating pancakes—without thought or caution, but when he does open the door, a smile still in place, he freezes, and wishes his sword was a good deal closer.

Regina looks the same as she always has— at least when compared to David Nolan's memories (not so much Charming's); neatly put together and professional, but there's something off about it all—he thinks then that it's due to the absence of a sneer or smirk. He's wrong, of course, but understanding comes later.

At that moment though, he's mainly thinking of Henry, and how best to keep Regina from getting anywhere near him. Regina herself seems to barely notice Charming at all, so fixed are her eyes on her son, but she does not take a single step toward the boy, indeed, does not come close to crossing the threshold of the apartment. It's Henry who breaks the silence, as short as it, in actuality, is.

"What are you doing here, Mom?"

Charming can tell the boy hadn't meant to tack on the title (had done so by reflex), but he can also see how it affects Regina—the woman visibly swallows and her eyes flash in a myriad of emotions. He has no love for the woman (by any stretch of the imagination) but even _he_ feels a bit of pity at the inner turmoil so clearly tormenting her.

But her voice is steady when she responds, addressing Charming instead of her son (an easier task, perhaps). "I found the man you were looking for. Jefferson."

"How did you—?"

She hands him a slip of paper as she cuts him off, business-like. "He has been moving frequently, from what I can tell. It's a wonder he hasn't run out of Storybrooke altogether. If he has any further knowledge of the hat, it would be lost if he did that, as you very well know. So I would hurry to this address, if I were you. "

"But, why—?"

The woman does not move her gaze away from him, but Charming is sure she is not speaking to him when she replies. "I am helping. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

The Mayor, or former Mayor, as it were, leaves without another word or glance. Charming turns back to Henry after she's gone, his eyebrows raised. The kid looks utterly baffled, as though he is trying to figure out Regina's true agenda. Charming finds himself wondering if she hadn't just told them.

"What do you think?" He asks the boy.

Henry hesitates. "I don't know. She's… the Evil Queen. She can't be _good_ now, can she?"

Charming doesn't know how to respond to that, but he does later go to the address Regina provided (with a bit of backup). Jefferson is there.

[But the Mad Hatter is of no help— his name being a more accurate description of his mental state than Charming would have hoped— and the quest to find Snow and Emma continues].

* * *

The second time, it's early (too early) in the morning.

Charming is pretty sure Regina hadn't slept that night (and maybe the night before that as well) because there are dark circles under her eyes that makeup can't quite cover, but her clothes are as neatly pressed as always.

"The dwarves are looking for fairy dust. They won't accept anything from me, but they trust you. This is a talisman to assist in their blasting. Point and press the knob on top. It only has a few uses in it, so take care."

"Regina, wha—?"

She did not bat an eye at Charming's crown-decorated boxers, or his bewildered expression, and she certainly does not waste any further time waiting for him to wake up enough to actually understand what's going on. She's already half-way down the hallway when she calls out over her shoulder. "And please keep Henry away from it. He has a tendency to involve himself in these sorts of things."

[The dwarves continue mining with the help of Regina's artifact. It speeds their progress, but not enough to capture success].

* * *

After the third time, Charming knows this (this whole Regina-popping-in-unannounced-with-clever-potential-solutions-to-his-biggest-problem) is going to become a regular thing, at least until they find Snow and Emma. He's just not sure how to feel about it.

Henry clearly isn't either, but before Regina leaves (in her usual brisk manner), he does speak up, albeit hesitantly.

"Thanks, Mom."

Regina's mask slips; it's only for a moment, but Charming is once again taken aback about how much is there. He doesn't know how it's possible for a woman like her, but she clearly loves her son. And love is something Charming has always firmly believed in, no matter what obstacles may block its path.

"You're welcome, dear." The term of endearment rings true this time; it's almost alarming how soft it makes the brunette look, when not delivered in its usual mocking and derisive manner. "But you should know, Henry, that I am not doing this _only_ for you."

* * *

'"Why else are you doing it, then," Charming asks, during attempt number five (which involves a foray into Gold's shop, late one night). "If not just for Henry?"

She waits a long time before answering (so long that he thinks she, as is typical, has simply ignored him). "For me." She finally says, but then hesitates again before adding, almost wearily. "And for your daughter."

[Gold's is a bust, though they do find some interesting ingredients that Regina thinks she may be able to make use of.]

* * *

Regina does not clarify her answer until during her next visit, when she brings with her a potion that smells absolutely horribly, and a large, full-length mirror.

"I wish to… redeem myself," she says as they watch the potion dry on the glass of the mirror, sitting as far away as possible, on the other side of the apartment. "I have been… I look back, and I do not particularly like the direction my life has taken. I think sometimes that…"

Regina looks away, and Charming gets the feeling that she is not talking to him at all—that he is merely another inanimate object in an empty room where the brunette can voice her thoughts aloud. So he says nothing, but Regina continues without any further prompting.

"…That I have… strayed. Fallen. That I am not, perhaps, the person I should… be."

She says nothing further for a long while, so Charming risks speaking (because the question has burned on his tongue for several days now).

"And Emma? Why did you say you were doing this for her?"

The woman's normally olive skin looks pale in the dim light of the room. "I have come to realize I owe her many debts. And perhaps… not a few apologies. This seems a fitting start, wouldn't you agree?"

It's not a question that she wants answers, Charming knows, but despite himself, he can't help but feel that the answer to it is 'yes'.

[The potion melts the mirror, and part of the floor. It does not, however, open any portals.]

* * *

It's around attempt number eight that Charming notices that Regina is coming apart. She's slowly stopped trying to hide the dark circles under her eyes, and her hair is now pulled back from her face in a messy mockery of a ponytail that can't quite capture all of the black, wayward strands. And Charming's not exactly the observant type, but he's pretty sure she's worn the same grey shirt a few days in a row now.

"You do know they are safe, correct?" Regina asks, her voice low and gravely as she nicks his finger with the tip of one of Snow's kitchen knives (unsanitary, yes, but neither of them seems to care).

"Snow and Emma?" He asks slowly. "Yes." He doesn't clarify; doesn't feel like Regina needs (or deserves) to know that he will always be able to feel, in his gut, when Snow is truly in danger. It's not something she will ever understand, which begs the question: "But how do _you_?"

"Your daughter. I can... Feel her. Sense her. I believe my magic— it may have formed a sort of…tie between us when we opened the portal."

"Emma?" Charming asks, alarmed. The idea of his daughter connecting with _Regina_ in any way does not sit well with him. "What do you mean, _sense_?"

Regina shakes her head, and though he repeatedly asks for clarification, he receives none.

[He gains nothing more from the attempt than a sore finger; he wants to think that Regina might have pricked it in a particular tender place on purpose, but knows the thought to be false. This certainty bothers him as much as their failure in their quest.]

* * *

"_Something's wrong_!" He's sure he locked the front door, but Regina somehow manages entrance, because she's barging through the door of his bedroom, and waking him from his fitful sleep, the night after attempt number ten.

But he isn't Prince Charming for nothing (as much as the Evil Queen had wished it, in turning him into David Nolan), and he leaps out of bed, his sword off of the floor and in his hand in less than a second. It's funny (funny as in odd, not ha-ha funny, not in the least) because his first instinct is to protect Regina from whatever it is that has her so distressed. Which is ridiculous, of course, on so many levels.

"What! What is it? What's happening?"

Regina looks at the gleaming sword in grasp and actually lets out a laugh; Charming can almost hear the way madness creeps around the edges of the sound.

"You fool," Regina gasps. "Thinking every problem can be solved with a sharp blade. But you can't reach them, can you? We can't reach her!" She groans and stumbles backwards, both hands gripping at her head, pulling at the hair at her temples.

"Reach who, Regina?" It's the only question he can think of asking, because he doesn't think he'll get much of a response if he goes with his gut instinct and asks 'what's wrong with you?'

"_Emma_!" Regina growls, sounding out of breath. "Your daughter!"

Charming likes to think he's pretty cool under pressure, but he experiences a sensation not felt in twenty-eight years upon hearing these words. Panic. For his _daughter_. "Emma? What—what's happening? What's going on? Regina!"

"I don't know. I don't—" She's trembling now, and as Charming steps closer, he can see the sweat collecting on her forehead. "It just—hurts—I—I think she's hurt." She takes a few stumbling backwards until her back presses against the wall; her legs give out shortly after and she slides to the floor, still clutching her head in her hands.

He's never felt more helpless in his entirely life (and that's saying something). He can't reach Emma, and he really doesn't know what to do with the former Evil Queen having a fit at his feet because of some supposed connection to his daughter, who is apparently feeling something similar or worse or different (_or, or, or_) and he just _doesn't know what to do_. But instinct mercifully takes over, and suddenly he's on his knees, on level with the shaking woman before him, not quite touching her, but whispering quiet encouragement. He's not sure if they're for her benefit or his.

"She's going to be okay," he says. But there's an unspoken addition at the end of the phrase; '_and you will be too_.'

[Regina leaves after another hour or so; she spends most of the time with her head and her hands, biting at her bottom lip so hard it bleeds. She does not, however, allow even a single tear to escape her tightly shut eyes. When she does depart, she does so without any dramatics or explanations; only gruffly remarks that Emma, like the brunette herself, will survive.]

* * *

For the first time in weeks, Charming doesn't see Regina for the next several days. It makes him nervous, and not in the typical she-must-be-plotting-something way, either. No, he is nervous because he thinks something may have happened to her. And even though it's not a nervousness that comes from him wishing Regina well (because he's more concerned about how the woman may be affecting his daughter, truly) it still feels odd to be concerned about the Evil Queen, regardless of the reason.

He's not the only one who is feeling conflicted.

"Have—have you seen my… mom today?" Henry asks, his voice small and hesitant.

Charming scratches at the back of his neck. "No, I haven't, Henry."

"And— what about the day before that?"

"Nope. Not then either."

Henry's lips twitch into a frown. "Do you—I mean, she normally stops by. To help us. Maybe you should make sure she didn't… forget."

Something pulls at Charming's chest, because even though Henry had been Regina's biggest critic, stubbornly labeling her as the Evil Queen even when everyone thought him crazy, he was still raised by the woman, and that counts for a hell of a lot, no matter who you are, or how much you might fight against it. So Charming can't blame the kid for his barely concealed concern or the slight plea behind his words.

"You're right, Henry. She probably just lost track of time."

"Right. 'Cause she's been working so hard. To get back Emma and Grandma."

Charming nods. He doesn't trust himself to speak after that, only grabs his sword and pats Henry on the head, telling him to be good (he still hasn't figured out how to treat his grandson—the default seems to be something like how he might treat a dog, but he figures he'll have time to work on that later).

He does not encounter much traffic on his way to the Mayor's mansion. Most people in Storybrooke are still uncertain where, exactly, Regina's powers lie on the scale of non-existent to will-rip-me-to-pieces-with-magical-tree-roots, so they tend to stay away. As for those who know her magic is running on empty, well, they're not so ready to lynch her—not anymore—not after everything she's done over the past couple months. _Those_ people, including Charming himself, don't really know what to do with the woman at all. So they simply leave her be. Hence, the light traffic.

Upon reaching the mansion, Charming feels his uneasiness grow. The yard, once meticulously maintained, now grows wild with weeds and tall grasses. Worse, bits of trash litter the area, seemingly blown out of the house by forces unknown, for the front door is open and swinging slightly on its hinges.

The whole thing is, quite frankly, creepy.

And Charming's not one to get shivers (aside from when Snow gives him that very particular look that means he's in _very _deep shit) but the sight of the abandoned yard does the trick.

Of course, that's nothing compared to what he finds when he steps through the swinging door, and into the kitchen.

It's weird, but the first thing he notices is that Regina is not wearing shoes. Stupid thing to notice— completely moronic detail to fixate on— but Charming can't remember having seen the mayor without shoes (nor the Evil Queen) and it just catches him off guard. And maybe it's just easier to focus on bare feet rather than the absolutely wild look in Regina's eyes when she looks up to find him in the doorway, or the impressively sharp knife that she grips, knuckles white, in her hand. Her left sleeve has been pulled back (not even neatly rolled) and she's holding her arm over the Hatters hat, which sits on the table (so innocently, the stupid thing).

"Regina—" He begins his eyes wide.

"Oh, don't _bother_, Charming. This is it. _Don't you see_?" Her voice is raspy and free from the typical careful infliction the woman had always placed on her words. "This is the only possible way. Don't you think I would choose any other option if I could? But the hat needs _power_. It needs magic to repair itself. Magic more powerful than either you or I can possibly help to possess—to afford." Here her eyes glint, and Charming wants to take a step back. "All magic comes with a _price_." She actually laughs. "A price! And I only have one currency left; the blood of one borne into magic."

"No. This isn't—there has to be—."

"She could have _died_! Emma could have died and I can't—" Her voice breaks. "I can't let that happen. Not when Henry asked me to save her. Not when she saved _me_. Not when—not when I can feel her every heartbeat, every moment of the day."

"But—"

"Do not act you though you _care_, Charming. Do not act as though you weren't wanting this very thing a couple short months ago. This accomplishes _everything_, do you not _see_? I'm restoring the happy ending I stole from you so long ago! Bringing back your daughter, when I took her before. And at the cost of my life! Don't you see the _poetry_? The _justice_? How well it fits into one of your fairy tales! How neatly it all ends!" He would have thought the knife would shake in her hands, seeing as the rest of her is so unstable, but she holds it steady.

"Regina, don't!" He takes a step forward.

"Why not?" She hisses. "Why should you even care?"

He does care, but in a way he can't understand, let alone explain. So he does something unusual, for him; he sticks to logic.

"Emma." He says shortly, and it's enough. He immediately has Regina's full attention. "What if she's as tied to you as you are to her? What if, in doing this, you kill her? Then you'd both— And Henry—Henry will be left without either of his mothers. What then, Regina?"

Every part of Regina slumps; a puppet with her strings cut. She collapses into a chair and hunches forward onto the table, sliding that damned hat away from her as she completes the motion. But she does not drop the knife, and Charming approaches with caution.

"You don't understand," she says weakly. "You don't understand what it's like to feel this way."

Charming remembers much about the Evil Queen, but in that moment, he can see none of that woman in the tormented soul who seems to slowly be losing her grasp on her emotions—on her sanity, even. He supposes it's that—the disconnect between those two images of the brunette—that allows him to sit down next to Regina, unprotected from any assault (physical or magical) she might suddenly unleash.

But she doesn't even look up.

"I can't— I can't go another day feeling like this. She needs to come back. It's more than the physical. It's— I know when she's upset. Or worried. Or excited. I dream about her. Every night. And I— If she doesn't come back soon—" Regina does raise her head then, her eyes almost pleading. "You don't understand how it feels. You can't possibly understand."

Charming reaches over and takes the knife from her hand. She is complacent and resigned.

"I do," he says, and his voice is soft, but unyielding. "I understand perfectly."


	2. Part II

Note: I can't thank you all enough for your kind comments, favorites, and follows. The response to this story, both on here and tumblr, has been a great surprise for me! Thanks for putting a smile on my face!

My apologies for taking a couple of days to get this second part out. Hope it does not disappoint!

* * *

Of course, it doesn't occur to him until later that the only reason he _had_ been able to understand Regina in that moment was because of Snow; because of the overwhelming emotion he'd felt when he had thought he'd lost her.

The thought causes him to stop mid-stride (to the utter confusion of Red, who he had been accompanying to yet_ another _town meeting).

"Charming?"

"I—I've got to go."

He literally sprints back to the mayor's house, which leads to less of an impressive entrance than he would have hoped; he's breathing hard and clutching at his side when he bursts through the door (still unlocked but shut now, at least).

"You can't—there's no way you—for _Emma_? What you're feeling— it's_ magic_. I mean, it's _just_ magic. Right?"

Regina doesn't insult him by pretending to not know what he's talking about, barely pausing in her careful sweeping of the floor (there's glass all over the place, and Charming can only guess Regina that had taken her frustration out on some of her more breakable possessions), before she answers with a tired sigh.

"I don't know."

"But you—you tried to run her out of town! You made her life miserable! You tried to—"

He wants to say 'kill her', but that's not exactly accurate, is it? And Charming suddenly wonders why that is. But he doesn't have to wonder long, because the look in Regina's eyes, for perhaps the first time, is very clear to him. This is something he understands, after all.

"No." The word slips out of his mouth before he has time to even consider her words. "You can't!"

"Don't you think I know that?" She snarls out the words, and suddenly, a bit of the Regina he remembers is back. "It'd been so long since I—_felt_ anything. And suddenly—" She lets out a puff of a laugh, her lip curling in distaste. "Suddenly Emma Swan is marching into town, making me feel like…" She trails off, her disgusted expression fading. "And then she—she loved Henry and it made me realize how much I… love him as well. And it made me recognize—" She shakes her head, remembering herself, and the soft expression disappears. "And now—this."

She looks so tired. Worn. Beaten. After everything she'd done, Charming supposed it was fitting that it would be love that would finally break her. Love for her son, of course. But also… well, he didn't really like thinking about the other thing—the thing that seemed to involve his _daughter_.

"Um…" He felt a great deal more like David Nolan in that moment than he did Charming. "Do you—do you want to come over for dinner, or something?"

A black eyebrow raises, and Charming hurries to clarify "I mean—uh—Henry was asking about you, so…"

The Mayor's eyes light at the mention of her son, but the rest of her face has fallen into a comfortable scoffing look. Charming prefers the familiar expression, quite honestly. "What a lovely family dinner that will be." She props her broom against the wall. "But very well. You best come over here though. I'm not sure I want to know what you've been feeding that boy for these past weeks."

[Dinner is awkward. Henry calls him 'Gramps', and Regina 'Mom', and Charming can't help but feel like he's having the most ridiculous family meal of all time with his… daughter-in-law, or something awful. It's all the more unbearable because Henry looks about as happy as he's looked since Emma and Snow left, and Charming doesn't really know how to feel about that at all.]

* * *

The last attempt is different from all the others.

Regina still looks pretty terrible, what with the uncharacteristically sallow skin and dark rings under her eyes, but at least she's changed clothes and showered. That's not the difference though; neither is the way she knocks on the door, quiet but no longer tentative; nor the way her face pinches at the sight of him, and immediately relaxes at the sight of Henry.

No, the difference is in the finality of it all. It's in the tightness of Regina's shoulders, and the glint in her eyes. It's in the way she walks into the apartment and carefully sets a book on the counter (a book that, even with the endless hours they had spent looking through old tomes, Charming had never once seen). It's in the way she glances at Henry before she casually mentions he should go play in his room.

It's these things combined that tell Charming this is the last attempt.

Therefore, it's reflex that causes him to ask, "What's going on?"

The way Regina leans against the counter is almost casual, but the effect is ruined by the way her hand stiffly hovers over the mysterious book with the gem heart in the center of its cover. "I had another idea."

He doesn't have to ask, 'about what'; they only really ever talk about one thing, after all.

"I'm guessing it involves that," he says with a nod toward the book.

"Yes."

"And you had this idea now because…?"

"It's a last resort," Regina admits, her face blank.

Charming snorts (it's not exactly dignified, but David Nolan was a corrupting influence in many ways). "And you sacrificing yourself wasn't?"

"No. Not like this."

Well, _that_ catches him off guard rather impressively. His nonchalant observation of the book turns into a suspicious glare.

"What does it do?"

"It corrupts," she answers simply, but continues at Charming's exasperated stare. "I have come to find that this magic… it has an adverse effect on me. And opening a portal will require a great deal of its use. I am not sure—that is—" She frowns, her eyes hooded. "We have formed a sort of truce, have we not, Charming?"

He nods, hesitantly.

"After I employ this magic… I believe you may be required to void that truce."

Charming gaped at her. "So, what, this book is going to turn you evil—_er_?"

"The book gives me great power. And in case it has previously escaped your notice, my having power does not often end well for others." He had let himself forget, for just a moment, that Regina was indeed the woman who had cursed the whole of his land. But the smirk she wore now was rather effective in reminding him.

"This sounds like a bad idea."

"Obviously," Regina sneered. "But it will accomplish all of our objectives; it will allow me to open a permanent portal to our old world. Then you will be able to take this entire miserable town through it— begin a mighty quest to find Emma… and your wife. The land is likely not as it was, but you will be _home_."

"And you?"

The brunette smiled, but her lips curled in a way that was entirely non-humorous. "You must make sure I do not enter the portal. You will have to destroy the book. And the portal itself, after all are through. I do not wish to take any chances. Not with Henry."

Charming rubbed at his forehead, feeling a massive headache coming on. "This—is a terrible idea. And you—you'll what? Be alone in Storybrooke for the rest of… forever?"

"Seeing as killing me is not an option, for fear of what it may do to Emma… yes."

"But that's—horrible."

"Is it any less than you truly believe I deserve?"

Charming didn't have an answer for that.

"I… need a few days. To think."

She nods and turns to go (gingerly picking up the book), but Regina being Regina, could not depart without a snarky comment.

"Try not to think too hard, dear. I know it's an entirely new pursuit for you."

* * *

Regina comes over every day after that, spending the whole of her time with Henry. She seems convinced Charming will agree to her plan eventually.

She is not wrong.

It's late when he decides. Too late for him to be awake, but he'd been staring up at the ceiling of Snow's bedroom for about four hours now, and was thus resigned to the fact that sleep would not be coming tonight. Not when he had so many lines of thought running through his mind that they're starting to get tangled. There's the big jumble of thoughts connected to Snow, of course, and Emma (those are a bit too painful to dwell on), but there's also worry for his subjects—the people of Storybrooke that he still feels responsible for. And there's Rumpelstiltskin, who has been MIA for an alarming amount of time. And Henry, naturally, who is spending the night with Regina (but out of sight, out of mind doesn't begin to apply here, in fact, it's rather the opposite) and, of course, Regina herself.

He hates that he feels so conflicted; it shouldn't be a difficult decision—Regina did deserve such a banishment—such a life of solitude. After everything she'd done to Snow it was simply unacceptable that he should even consider giving her mercy now, especially when 'mercy' involved leaving his daughter and wife in an entirely different land, separated by something greater than time or distance.

But he _is_ conflicted.

No matter how many times he turns it around in his head, though, and despite all the things she had done to redeem herself in these past months, Regina is not family. Not really. And that's what it has to come down to, doesn't it? He just wishes there were some other way. Because he can see Emma, staring at him with a set, unflinching face, saying '_she's not dying_' (and so much more) and he can see Regina clutching at her head as she shakes on the floor from pain (pain— physical and mental— shared with his daughter). He remembers these moments, and more, and he wishes for there to be another way.

And even though Storybrooke, Maine is not supposed to be a land of fairy tales, true love, happy endings, or magic, it's directly after he has this thought that he hears a loud thud come from his living room.

At first he thinks it might be Regina, and his heart leaps into his throat because the woman rarely brings good news (and never this late at night); he's racing out of Snow's bedroom (sword in hand, of course) grumbling under his breath (but praying, pleading, that everything's alright—that everyone's safe). But it's not Regina bursting into the apartment.

It's Snow. And Emma.

…Who is masterfully weaving curses in a tapestry of words that is both impressively colorful and horribly descriptive.

"Emma Swan!" Just hearing Snow's voice is enough to make Charming feel rather light-headed, relief washing over him in waves that make him quite immovable.

"Okay, seriously? Seriously? Can we save the goddamn lecture? Because I swear to God my side split open. I _swear_. Something's erupted—some vital organ—because _holy hell_ my fuc—"

Emma stops then, her eyes wide, not from any sort of bashfulness, but rather because she finally catches sight of Charming. Snow, however, does not.

"Emma! Language! Just because you're twenty-eight years old, and _technically_, _biologically _speaking similar in age to me—which honestly, I don't know why you insist on bringing up every moment of the day because it is such a complete cop out—I'm still your…"

"Snow…" Emma begins.

"Yes, that too. About that. Don't you think you can maybe, _maybe_ start calling me 'Mother' or 'Mom' or _something_? Because I know it's strange, Honey, but it's been a few months, and I really was hoping…"

"No. I mean, that's not… Snow. _Look_."

Snow spins around, and finally (_finally_) sees him.

"Charming," she breathes.

And then he's stumbling forward, clutching at every part of her, wrapping his arms around her, and she's breathing into his neck, his name escaping her lips over and over and over again. And he's pulling back, as little as possible, just to be able to pull them both to the floor, where Emma is still laying, and he's pulling her into the hug and just thanking…whoever that they're alive, and safe, and…

"Ah! Fuck! Jesus!"

…and still swearing.

"Emma!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm legitimately bleeding here."

Charming scrambles backwards, his eyes frantically searching over his daughter's form. "What! Where! Is this from the other night? Regina was in an absolute panic and…"

"Regina?" Emma exhales.

"The other _night_?" Snow demands, at the same time.

Deciding the louder objection is the one more likely to result in some very big trouble, he explains quickly. Or tries to. "Um…yes. She… um… see… She's been helping me. Find you two. And there's this weird sort of connection that she has with…"

"Where is she?" Emma's voice is odd. "Is she okay? Is she with Henry? Is she—where are they?"

At first, Charming thinks Emma is merely concerned for her son (being in the hands of the 'Evil Queen' and all), but as the blonde struggles to stand, and Charming gets a better look at the expression on her face, he realizes that's not it at all.

Suddenly he's very, very glad that Snow and Emma somehow (he can't begin to imagine how, in that moment) made it back before he left a corrupted Regina in an empty Storebrooke to come find them himself. Because judging from the look on Emma's face, she would have been more than a little displeased.

Judging from the look on her face, she would have been devastated.

Because clearly, whatever existed between his daughter and Regina was not a one-way street sort of deal.

"Emma," he starts, placing a hand on her elbow to steady her. "They're fine. They're both fine."

"I need to…" She takes a step forward—an unsteady, trembling step that would have resulted in her falling to the floor had it not been for Snow catching her by the waist.

"Emma! Slow down! Charming get some supplies—a first aid kit and—Emma, _stop moving_!"

"Lemme go! I need to find…"

For the second time that night, a loud bang echoes throughout the room; Charming lifts his sword again (as does Snow—he hadn't even noticed the weapon strapped to her belt), but drops it immediately on catching sight of the 'intruders'. Snow, now standing beside him, is not so quick to do the same.

"Regina," Emma breathes. "Henry."

"Mom!"

"Emma."

Henry reaches her first, crashing into her at a wild run. Charming catches the painful grimace that distorts her features, but Emma barely lets out a groan, her arms wrapping around her son in a vice-like grip.

Regina is a bit slower, but Emma watches her the entire way, her hazel eyes dark.

"You're—" The brunette stops in front of his daughter, close enough to embrace her, but she merely puts her hand on top of Henry's head, smoothing down locks of brown hair absent-mindedly as he burrows his head into Emma's stomach. "Different."

Emma laughs (it's more of a cough than anything, really). Charming takes a moment to, for the first time, take in the whole of his daughter. She _is_ different—wearing battered plated armor that seems to have had its sleeves removed, dirty and ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots. These things, in combination with the large sword strapped to her back, make Emma look every bit the Savior Charming had always known she would grow up to be.

Of course, he hadn't predicted most every other turn this story would take—not the least of which is the way Emma is staring at the Evil Queen in a manner that can only be described as fond.

"Really? After everything that's gone down, you're gonna critique my fashion choices?"

"I think you look cool, Emma!" Henry chirps, still snug in-between the two women.

"Not the _first_ word that comes to _my _mind," Regina adds. "But I _do_ like it."

And then she… she practically _leers_. At his daughter. _At his little girl_.

Emma's eyebrow jerks upwards, her smile knowing. Charming is about ready to raise his sword again when Regina speaks again, her tone and expression once again sober.

"You're okay, though?"

"Yeah." Emma lies, because her face is still tight, her body still carefully held. "I mean—I'll be okay."

"I—I thought… the other night. I thought—"

"I know," Emma says, her eyes softening as well. "I felt it. But I'm okay. So are you. And so is Henry."

Regina swallows heavily before reaching up with the hand not still resting on her son. Her fingers reach out, as though to brush against Emma's cheek, but she stops, millimeters away from the red line of a particularly long gash that mars her face.

"Hey, don't—Don't _do_ that!" Charming sputters out the words without thought. Because Regina's expression is unbelievably soft and she's about to touch his _daughter_ and after everything that's happened it's just… it's just… _something_. And he doesn't think he likes it.

Naturally, Regina doesn't spare him a glance. Sadly, neither does Emma. But while the latter remains silent, the former, true to form, most certainly does not. "Oh, do shut up, Charming."

"Don't talk to my husband that way, you—"

"Snow!" Emma's voice is sharp, and then she _does_ turn to look at her parents, though she does not pull away in the slightest from her son and her… whatever Regina is.

Charming is pretty sure this is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him.

But then Regina's hand finally connects with the skin on Emma's cheek, and Charming has to revise the thought.

Because everything else, combined with the way the very air around them seems to sigh in relief as soon as Regina and Emma touch—combined with the way magic crackles through the veins of (he's sure) everyone in the room with that single touch… Well, _that's_ the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him.

Snow finally lowers her sword, her eyes wide. Charming intertwines their fingers because he's pretty sure they're both going to need the support for whatever is going to come after this absolutely insane family reunion.

It strikes him that family dinners are going to be _extremely_ awkward for a long while.

But if the look on Emma's face is anything to go by, he figures it'll be worth it.


	3. Epilogue

_Summary for chapter:_ Charming had missed out on the time-honored tradition of fathers creatively scaring away potential suitors of their daughters. Unfortunately for all involved, this only means the over-protective father in him has been lying in wait for twenty-nine years.

This is a very silly follow-up to a mostly serious first two chapters; it's complete fluff (occasionally bordering on crack), and really inconsequential, but I sure enjoyed writing it, and I figured I should share it here.

* * *

_So you're the __boy__ I've heard so much about from my daughter's open mouth?_

_Well, she's described for me wild fantasies of true love and ancient prophecies._

_Did you think you could waltz right and steal the princess for yourself?_

_Seducing her with empty dreams and a rusting ring?_

_Well I'm the King, it won't be that easy._

(Meet the King by Forgive Duram)

* * *

"Will you stop sulking?"

"I'm not sulking," Charming said, his lips pursed and arms crossed in a manner that no one in their right mind would describe as anything but 100% sulking.

"You are. You have been for a solid week. Ever since…"

"Don't. I can't even hear it."

"…Ever since Emma…"

"_Snow_!"

"…ever since she…"

"Ack! Stop it!"

There was a pause. Charming felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

"Chester."

Snow gave him _The Look_. The Look was never a particularly good thing, but when employed in conjunction with his actual name, it was a look that could not, under _any_ circumstances, be ignored. In fact, if it was answered with anything other than complete obedience, it was usually followed by a few very lonely days/nights. Charming wasn't about to test fate.

"Yes, Snow?"

His wife sipped at her hot cocoa, peering at him over the rim of the mug.

Charming fidgeted. "It's just…"

Snow placed her mug down, her stare not abating in the least.

"It's just—Snow! It's Regina!"

"Oh, _Regina_?" Charming winced at the all-too innocent tone. "The Regina you spent _weeks_ convincing me had changed? The Regina you said had done _so_ much to bring our daughter back? The Regina who, and I quote, 'clearly still has love in her heart despite all the horrible things she's done'? _That _Regina?"

"…Yes." He swallowed. "But—but that was all before….before…"

"…Emma moved in with her?" Snow finished with a raised an eyebrow.

Sinking further into the booth, Charming grumbled under his breath. "It's a phase. Not worth mentioning. Emma is going to…"

Snow sighed. "Dear. _Sweet _Charming. You know I love you with all my heart. But you are being—and this is me putting it delicately—a complete and utter ass."

Charming sputtered; Snow ignored him.

"Emma is twenty-nine years old. She has a son. A son who is also Regina's."

"Oh, come on! That's more of a technicality than anything. You don't have to go making it sound like…"

"And," Snow continued, speaking over him. "…as much as I wish it were otherwise, due to the complicated history I have with the woman… Regina makes her happy. Isn't that all we should want for our daughter?"

Well, there really wasn't more than one way to answer _that_ question.

"Yes, Snow."

"Good." Snow picked her cocoa up once again. "Look, I'm not crazy about it either. But, Charming, have you seen them? They're… well, you and I know better than anyone what they are. I know it's hard, but do try to not mope around so much."

"Yes, Snow."

Charming resumed his sulking. Snow rolled her eyes and pointedly ignored him.

* * *

A day later, Charming was still brooding. It was not a particularly good look for him.

"You really look like you could really use some coffee."

Charming sighed, but offered a tired smile to Ruby as he accepted the cup of steaming liquid. "Thanks. You're probably right."

"So…" Ruby began, faux-casual. "What's up? Town business getting you down? Troubles with the wifey? Or, maybe…" A knowing smile in place, she gestured to the view through the window of Granny's. Charming nearly groaned at the timing of it all.

It was Emma and Regina. Of course.

They weren't doing anything—not really—merely standing outside of the country bread shop across the street. Emma leaned her back against the front window of the shop, while the Mayor stood, hip cocked, alongside her. They were not touching in any way, but were closer, perhaps, than friends would stand, and Charming felt the frown creep across his features at the sight.

Ruby, always the solid friend, slid into the booth, her face a picture of innocent support. Of course, it was all a very clever ploy, Charming quickly realized. "So, they're, like, together-together, now? Emma and Regina?"

Charming groaned. "I don't even know what that means, Red."

"Sure you do!" She leaned over the table conspiratorially. "I _mean_, are they an honest-to-god-Facebook-official couple now?"

Ruby received no answer from Charming, but as they continued to watch the two women through the window, Regina leaned closer to her blonde companion and whispered something in her ear. Judging from the fact that the resulting blush on Emma's cheeks could be seen even from Charming's viewpoint, the brunette's words were something he would never, ever want to hear directed at his daughter. His scowl deepened, but Ruby simply raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I guess that answers _that_ question."

Charming made a noise of disgust. "Why couldn't Emma have found someone _nice_ and _comfortable_ and _not formerly-evil_? Someone like…" He trailed off, eyeing Ruby's attire (still not _quite_ as chaste as it had been in the Old World). "Um… someone different." Ruby shot him an amused smirk, and he continued hurriedly. "I just don't get it! What's the appeal?"

"Of Regina?" Ruby stared across the street for a short moment. "Um, she's _super_ sexy. Like—all dark and yummy. I'd totally tap that."

Charming sputtered on his coffee (this was apparently becoming an unfortunate habit). "Red!"

"But then," she added with a wicked smile and an exaggerated head nod toward Emma. "I'd totally tap that as well."

Charming began coughing.

"In fact," Ruby continued, showing not even a modicum of mercy. "If you want an insider's opinion, I bet I could convince Emma to talk to Regina about inviting me for a…"

"Gah! Stop! That's my little girl you're talking about."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Look, Charming. I know you're royalty, and I probably shouldn't say this... But you're being an ass."

"Why do people keep _saying_ that?"

Ruby stood, her smile sympathetic. "I get it—Emma's your daughter. You missed out on the whole 'Lemme show you my gun collection' bit, but now's not the time. Emma knows what she's doing. You should trust her. I mean—just _look_ at them."

At Ruby's gesture, Charming once again looked out the window; apparently the two women had been waiting for Emma's (Charming did not even like to _think_ 'their') son, for as soon as Henry came running out of the shop, a pastry in hand, Emma pushed off of the wall, and the trio began to walk down the sidewalk. The young boy was chattering excited in-between his two mothers, hands gesturing wildly, and as Charming watched, the two women exchanged a warm glance over the top of Henry's head. And, as they fell a step behind the boy, Emma reached for Regina's hand, threading their fingers together. This time, it was the brunette who flushed and ducked her head, but Charming had never seen the woman look more pleased.

When he pulled himself away from the scene, Ruby was still standing by his table, the same understanding smile in place. "You don't mess with something like that, Charming. Don't you know that by now?"

* * *

Charming did know—very well—the futility of interfering with… well, 'something like that'. But that didn't stop him from knocking on Regina's door a few days later, after he had stewed over things for too long.

Regina opened the door, and Charming was struck by how well she looked; the impeccably pressed clothing and perfectly styled hair was back, of course, but the woman before him was a far-cry from—of course— the mess she had been during Snow and Emma's disappearance, but also from the mayor he had known before the curses' breaking (and even from the Queen before its creation in the first place). It was in the small things—in the lightness in her eyes and the way she stood, seemingly comfortable in her skin for the first time in as long as Charming had known her.

Not that it stopped her from greeting him with her typical smug expression. "Charming. How lovely to have you here. At my home. Once again."

"Listen, Regina…"

The brunette sighed. "Is this going to be some over-protective spiel about Emma, your Highness?"

"Um…" Charming paused, caught off guard. "Well, yes."

"I thought it might. Apologies, but I do not have time for such drivel."

And before Charming could say any more, Regina flicked her fingers, causing a purple mist to surround him.

"What—"

He was cut off by his abrupt transformation into a frog.

Regina stared down at him in satisfaction. "Best hop home, Charming. True Love's kiss breaks any spell, after all."

* * *

At his next visit to the Mayor's Mansion it was, fortunately, Emma that answered his knock. _Un_fortunately, she was wearing a smirk that was as far from sympathetic as was possible.

"So…I heard Regina turned you into a frog."

"I was stuck like that for a full day, you know."

Emma snorted.

Charming pouted. "Snow refused to kiss me. She said I deserved it."

"Well…"

"Not you too!"

"You _did_ come here to verbally assault my girlfriend."

His left eye twitched at the label. "_'Verbally assault_' is a bit overkill, Emma. It was more like a… fair warning. I don't know why everyone is so willing to just go along with you _dating_ someone like Regina. I know—I know very well—that she tried to help bring you and your mother back. And I know she _seems _very different, but Emma, you're moving so fast, and I think that—"

"I love her."

Charming opened his mouth, the reflex to protest the declaration overwhelming, but he held back, and after a moment, his entire countenance deflated.

"And—and Henry loves her too. David...or…Charming …" Emma sighed. "_Dad_. They're my family. They're my family too."

Rant forgotten, Charming stared at his daughter for a long moment before nodding.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Emma repeated, both eyebrows rising. "That's it?"

"Emma… I—I know this is all… impossible. You going your entire life without—without us, and now, you have us—have us _completely_—but you've known Snow and I as friends or roommates or even the subject of gossip. Not to mention we look—well, we look about your age."

Charming shrugged, as though apologizing he did not much look the part of the traditional grandfather. "But now, when I look at you—I see that newborn that I only knew for—for no time at all, really. And all I can think about is placing you in that cupboard—all by yourself—and I—It was the only option, but I—I couldn't protect you after that. When you needed it."

He looked away, swallowing heavily to compose himself. "And now you don't need it. Not anymore. Because you've grown into this wonderful, capable, and beautiful woman. And I'm proud of that—I'm so proud of _you_. But I—I just wish I had been there. To see you grow into this amazing person—to make sure that you were safe and happy and loved. But I wasn't. And that—that eats at me every day, Emma."

The blonde opened her mouth to respond, but Charming shook his head, not yet finished.

"So maybe—maybe that's why I'm… uh… overcompensating? A bit? And I know it's wrong, because you—obviously—aren't that small, tiny thing wrapped in the blanket your mother made you—not anymore. And you don't need me to hide you away from an Evil Queen that doesn't really exist anymore. But sometimes, I just can't help it—I've gone so long without being a father, and I've skipped so many steps, that I think—it's going to take some time. You're going to have to be patient with me, Emma. But I—I just want you to be_ happy_. And loved. And if Regina is responsible for bringing both of those things into your life… If you actually _love _her. Well…"

Charming trailed off, because his throat was starting to feel tight, and Emma had tears pooling in her eyes, and it was really all just a bit too much.

He was almost thankful for the sound of footsteps on the curved stairs behind his daughter. It gave Emma a moment to swipe at her eyes and him a second to reign in some of those overflowing emotions.

But, of course, '_almost'_ was the operative word.

"I'm _so_ glad that's all cleared up, then."

He could not have said what, exactly, his facial expression looked like the moment Regina Mills first came into view, but the double-take that resulted a few seconds later—when he realized what the brunette was wearing—was surely quite humorous. Because Charming would bet all the gold his land had once been worth that the former Mayor did not own a worn, too-large, flannel shirt, and yet that was exactly what she was wearing as she stepped onto the floor of the foyer.

Worse, was the second double-take (triple-take?) that occurred when his eyes returned to his own daughter. He hadn't noticed her attire before—there had been far more pressing things on his mind—but the silk robe was something he knew—absolutely knew for a fact—his daughter would never purchase for herself.

"What—what are you wearing?"

He wasn't sure who he directed the question to, but it was Regina who answered, walking closer and slipping her arms around Emma from behind, resting her chin on the blonde's shoulder.

"It's eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, Charming, and Henry slept over at a friend's. Perhaps you can understand why we might have been planning on sleeping in a bit after a _late _night."

Emma rolled her now-dry eyes (though her lips twitched in what threatened to become a smirk). "Regina…"

Charming grit his teeth. (_Your daughter is happy. She loves Regina. She loves this woman who was just last night doing unspeakable..._ _No! Nope. Don't think about that…Don't even start…_) He breathed in deeply and tried again. (_Your daughter is happy.._._She loves Regina…_)

"Sorry, we…er…I…um…"

"We thought it might have been some type of emergency. What with that terrible, frantic banging on our door."

"Right…" Emma nodded. "So I, er, rushed down. But, um… we can get dressed if you want to stay for breakfast, or something?"

Regina smirked, clearly remembering their last 'family' dinner, several weeks before. That had been awkward enough, but this… Charming had said he would work on not being so over-protective, but he wasn't sure that any father would be able to sit down and have a casual breakfast with his daughter and her…her girlfriend after being so indelicately informed about activities that…

He began to mentally chant his mantra.

"Um.. no. I mean, thank you, but I—Snow. I should get back to Snow. After the whole frog thing…" (He attempted to not glare at Regina) "…Well, I should… um… go."

"Oh, how disappointing."

Emma rolled her eyes again at Regina's overly-pleasant and clearly false tone.

"Right. I'll… see you later, Emma."

He had already stepped off of the ledge of Regina's doorstep when Emma called out, causing him to nearly lose his footing as he spun around in response.

"Dad?"

"Y—yeah?"

"I—thanks. Maybe we can… get dinner sometime? And…talk?"

Charming had to remind himself that Regina would never allow him to live it down if he became a blubbering mess in that moment.

"I'd really love that, Emma."

"Good. And… Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I—I'm glad you're here… to look out for me now. Even if I don't _need _it. It's… nice to have."

He nodded and, for some unknown reason, his eyes shifted to meet Regina's gaze. He was reminded of the months spent, trying plan after plan; of the single-minded determination the woman had held in bringing Emma back to Storybrooke. And he realized—belatedly—that there was one other very important person looking out for Emma now.

It was this thought that made his small smile genuine as he wished the two women a good morning and walked back home.


End file.
